swimmer
by kathleenfergie
Summary: She was having Spooky Mulder's baby. She laughed. And then she said it out loud to herself. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops, just to make it even more real. Oneshot.


Okay, so this is set in Three Words in season eight. Scully's sitting in the car thinking about her baby and Mulder, and her whole wacked-up situation.

You know the drill, Chris Carter blah blah blah.

* * *

Dana Scully was currently sitting in her car, outside a government facility, screaming into her phone to the Gunmen, who at the moment were suspended in an elevator shaft, to _'get Mulder out of there!' _She was heavily pregnant, and _she _was the one driving the getaway vehicle. Scully had already had her quarrel with Agent Doggett about leaving, but she just couldn't do it. She could not leave the man—who'd only been 'alive' for a few weeks, mind you—she desperately loved (yes, she loved him, she'd admitted it to herself quite some time ago) in there to possibly get a bullet in his frontal lobe like Absalom had. Also, her current partner on the X-Files was also in there and if she was responsible for the deaths of two FBI agents and a trio of hackers, Scully probably wouldn't have been able to live with that on her conscious.

The hilarity of the situation that she kept coming back to, though, was that this was something she found she did normally. She either sat in the getaway car or was jumping into it, tires screeching. She remembered when Mulder had gone to Bermuda to track down the Queen Anne, and she had ran into the Gunmen's van. Except, this time, she doubted she'd be very discreet. Scully couldn't run as fast with her son—or daughter—growing inside of her.

Her child. Mulder's child.

So after all, she was Mrs. Spooky. _Mr. and Mrs. Fox Spooky, nice to meet you_. Although Mulder had been bitingly cold to her in the past few weeks, she blamed it on being dead and then alive suddenly. He'd come around, she reasoned. Scully imagined that he thought it was from the IVF therapy, that maybe she picked another healthy donor after the try with his sperm had failed, or that Dr. Parenti had implanted an alien in her. It wasn't so. She knew it was his baby. _Woman's intuition, maybe_.

_I never saw you as a mother before_. She remembered his words to her from a few years back and chuckled out loud.

'Yes, well, I never imagined you being a father.' Scully found herself muttering. She couldn't even begin to imagine Mulder having secret meetings with his '_informants_' and apologizing about the crying infant he held in his arms. He'd probably name their child 'the Truth' if he could, just to joke and say that he'd found it. She knew he'd be a wonderful father, though. Scully had seen his demeanor with young children, the way he acted so gently with them. She thought that he was seeing his sister projected through them, that he was repenting for his harsh actions toward his sister the night of her kidnapping.

She found herself still unable to fully believe it. That she was having _Mulder's_ baby. She had come to believe in the existence of extra-terrestrials, yet she couldn't believe that a human child slept inside of her.

In the months of her pregnancy—while Mulder was in the ground—she never found herself thinking that it was his baby. The baby was hers, when she yelled _'No, I'm going to have a baby!' _back in that deserted village, she had been thinking _this is my baby, please don't take my baby_. Now that Mulder was back, though, that's all she thought about, that he was the father. She was having the goddamn baby of Fox Mulder.

Scully had already picked names, ones that paid homage to their lost families. She even included Doggett's name in the boy's, because he had been so loyal to her in the short time she knew him, so _trustworthy_. She had come to trust him with her life, and he had proved himself worthy of that trust. _Whatever happened to 'trust no one?' _That phrase held little meaning for Scully these days. The four people she trusted the most counted as more than 'no one.' _  
_

_William John. Samantha Melissa._

They were good names, she conceded. Full of history she'd may never explain to him or her. She didn't want them to become an X-File, like she herself was. Like they all were. It made Scully nervous when she filed things and saw the manila folder marked with her name and case number(s). After his burial, she had to stow away Mulder's because she couldn't even look at it without crying. Doggett would hear her muffled sniffles, and she'd close the cabinet drawer with shaking hands.

Those times were over now, however. She wasn't safe, no. Scully never imagined her life to be completely free of harm, but she was nonetheless caught in a weird disjuncture of happiness outside all of the crazy schemes that were occurring. All the while she was worrying about the fact that Mulder and Doggett could die, she was having a deep inner monologue, her little swimmer stretching and feeling the insides of his temporary home.

By God, she was having Spooky Mulder's baby. She laughed. And then she said it out loud to herself. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops, just to make it even more real. She wanted to tell everyone they knew, she would have, had not it been a threat to the both of them. The two knew they didn't need another person to be used against them. Their lives were completely crazy.

_Our little boy. Or girl. _Scully though, smiling widely.

And that's how Mulder, Doggett, and the Gunmen found her as they came barreling down the asphalt, sitting with the engine on, laughing to herself about the ridiculousness of her situation, a big idiot grin on her face.

Scully drove the car, successfully completing her role as the getaway driver, and still, she kept smiling.


End file.
